Thursday, July 18th, 2024
Gunnison, CO -> Paonia, CO
76.7 Miles, 3,596 ft elevation
We started the day climbing to Crested Butte, a small ski town about 27 miles into our ride. The team purchased some overpriced coffees and croissants. We stayed a while in downtown.
Rebecca and I walked into a stationary card store where we perused their New Yorker cartoons, postcards, and alien stickers! This area and westward are where the alien sightings begin. Get ready for Utah. We later stopped at a local art gallery. If it weren’t for the limited carrying capacity of the saddle bag, we would have properly gone shopping.
Crested Butte reminds me of Newport, Rhode Island, a small city I would visit often over the summer growing up. The painted store fronts, the candy stores, the coffee shops, the feeling that vacation and leisure are permanent fixtures of life here rather than a moment in transit. Replace the mountain with the ocean, and you’d get Newport.
Downtown Crested Butte
At the toy store and general store, Rebecca and I discussed how small trinkets (“little guys”) make the world go round. Featuring: a Lego set themed after the movie Up and this pug in a peanut figurine.
All throughout this ride, I felt that we’d earned Colorado. Her mountains, rivers, forests, flowers. We see these wondrous sights so often nowadays on the highway and along the county roads. Kebler Pass today was no exception. We are, after all, in the wildflower capital of the world — Crested Butte. What makes a wildflower spectacular is its reservation and restraint towards color, making every petal of red, purple, and yellow miraculous. When viewed in abundance off the side of a mountain, you feel like crying.
Though sight unseen, the downhill from Kebler Pass was brutal without the suspension of a mountain bike. We faced 15 miles of downhill on gravel. Whatever nerve endings I had left after 40-so days of biking have successfully been fried off. My body jittered its way down, deary me.
I remembered a short exchange between my cousin Danny and my uncle Dave while going through this section of gravel. We often skied together having grown up in New England. We were used to ice, instead of the decent, powdery snow you could cut beautiful lines in around this part of the country. Danny asked, “What do I do when I’m on ice? I can’t stop.” Dave said, “You just answered your own question. Don’t stop.” Whenever faced with something you can’t control, don’t. Try riding it instead, like surfing in the ocean. So, I tried my best not to brake to avoid slipping. At parts, I was able to find a rhythm. Other parts, I gave in and was bombing down the hill.
Views from Kebler Pass. The pictures don’t do this beautiful pass justice, especially the birch trees. The largest forest of Birch I’ve ever seen!
Today’s lunch spot was our prettiest by far, a picnic table by a river. This was right after our dirt and gravel downhill from the pass, and all our faces were caked with dirt. The cars and trucks passing us on that road helped kick this into our face in big ole plumes.
Outside the orchard store, we played with the rope swing and order a “flight” (6-drink sampler) of their ciders and other drinks. The highlight for me was the aji limon, a spicy + peppery lemon drink.
We are sleeping in an orchard today. Location-wise, you could not have chosen a more perfect campground. My “retirement” plan is to have an orchard (hopefully this happens before retirement marks), where my family and friends climb the trees and pick the fruits. On a small corner of this orchard, there is a cozy restaurant that feels like dinner with friends. The menu is seasonal, affordable, comforting.
Other fresh produce!
I walked around the orchard before dinner. The peaches aren’t quite ripe yet, but there is one row that’s getting close. We’re staying on Site 1 of Peach Lane. Yes, we’re living in a children’s book.
I saw my first cherry tree today. Although the growing season has passed, at least in this part of Colorado, a few shriveled, dried-up cherries made for a tart candy. I next wandered off to find the apricot trees. On the walk there: I munched on a leaf of basil (incredibly fragrant – the bright, medicinal flavor was a shot in the system), I smelled some wild garlic, I crouched and searched for some baby cucumbers, I saw a windmill. The apricots appeared like a dream. They were so abundant on the trees, bundles of orange tennis balls thrown across branches. I made my way up a ladder. Although beetles and birds got to a few apricots, the rest were plump and just becoming soft. With the press of a finger, the flesh would give. I stood on the ladder and tore apricot after apricot apart with my hands. The juice dripped down my palm and chin.
This orchard is nestled in the Rockies. The moon was out tonight. The windmill was still. I walked between the rows, and branches bowed down with the weight of apricots, waving in the path. The waxy green of peaches still in infancy clung to tree trunks, emerging from leafy canopies.
enjoying apricots
There is something immensely personal and gratifying about the return of childhood intuition. Fruit orchards have always been special, a feeling that must be ubiquitous, but they speak to me timelessly and at the core of my identity.
Beautifully described! Childhood memories are timeless.
Aww Sophia how sweet! I am glad you enjoyed the flavors of Colorado! - Sarah :)